


something always brings me back to you

by tryalittlejoytomorrow



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Explicit Sexual Content, Galactic Civil War, Past Aliases, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9488783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryalittlejoytomorrow/pseuds/tryalittlejoytomorrow
Summary: With alcohol pulsing through her body, Jyn liked to think that this smile was hers, that maybe in the grand scheme of things and the vastness of the galaxies, they'd found each other in those small windows of time, of forgotten planets. Maybe they would again.(Tomorrow, she'd close that hatch for good. Tomorrow.)--Jyn, Cassian, and the various times they met through the years.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenofchildren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofchildren/gifts).



> I'd like to dedicate this story to my darling @queenofchildren who encouraged me to write this monster, and whose enthusiasm helped a great deal as I struggled with the bulk of this story.
> 
> Some characters, like Maia or Codo, come from the Rogue One novelization. I just decided to flesh them out.
> 
> Title from Sara Bareilles' "Gravity", which fits these two magnets immensely.

**Stardust**.

 

Her father spoke the nickname against the crown of her hair, gentle, soft - half-secret, half-promise. He called her _Stardust_ , had called her that for as long as she remembered, and it felt safe in his mouth, in Jyn's heart. When clutching Beeny in her arms wasn't enough, when the warmth of her favorite blanket didn't provide shelter and protection, Jyn pressed her eyes shut and focused on Papa's voice, the way he said her name, and she knew _this_ was the truth: Papa would always protect her.

"I love you, Stardust," he murmured every night, as he kissed her forehead and tucked the blankets up to her chin. And she said it back, and this was _home_ , Papa tucking her into bed and Mama leaning against the wall, looking at them with eyes so tender, Jyn never feared closing hers.

(She ran to the hiding spot Papa had showed her, climbed down the ladder, and waited, _waited_. When her eyes started feeling heavy, Jyn didn't fight it; she _was_ scared, but come morning light, Papa _would_ be there.

The hatch opened. Papa's friend took her in his arms, wiped the fat tears on her cheeks. He called her _my child_ , Jyn.

He closed the hatch behind him. Beeny and adventures on the beach and _Stardust_ stayed there.)

 

* * *

 

 **Jay**.

 

"Oh, _come on_ , Jay!" Maia followed her around, gripping at her sleeve with fingers that Jyn swatted away harshly. "Come on, you can't stay mad forever."

Jyn wanted to spat that, _yes_ , she could stay mad forever if she wanted to. What was Codo thinking, trying to _kiss_ her? No one _just_ did _that_. And now he was acting all offended and irritable, like he had a _right_ to; _she_ was the one who'd been stunned to silent shock as he'd pressed his chapped, too eager lips against her mouth.

And Maia seemed to find it funny, which only made Jyn's anger simmer and boil in her veins. She and Maia were the only girls in camp; they were supposed to be on the same side.

Jyn kicked angrily at small, insignificant pebbles on the road, frustrated at herself with how useless it felt. She sat at the edge of the hill, letting her legs dangle in the air and fantasizing, for a mere second, about jumping down. There was nothing but desert and heat and _bones_ beneath, but even that sounded better than staying at the moment. Codo was her _friend_ \- he'd taught her how to swim, and how to roll with the punches. Jyn wanted nothing but to beat him bloody now.

Maia touched her shoulder, and Jyn refused to shudder, or shrug her off. She'd decided to ignore the other girl. " _Jay_ ," Maia said softly, though, and Jyn felt a painful pang in her heart. Maia's voice was the only softness she could indulge in, at Saw Gerrera's camp. "Codo's an idiot," she admitted, "but better him than someone else."

"I don't want to kiss anyone," Jyn heard herself reply back, despite her better judgment. And it was only _half_ true, not that it mattered, but Jyn clung to the thought that she didn't want any of that - the kisses and the handholding and someone, someone to _be_ with, to be _herself_ with. Something _real_.

Maia sighed, a heavy, slow exhale that Jyn felt shaking through her own body. She turned a little, tilted her face to look at her friend - and never had Maia looked so old before, she who hardly had a  year on Jyn. "Sometimes you have to do things you don't want or don't like," she went on.

Jyn _knew_ that - had known it ever since Saw Gerrera had opened the hatch of her cave instead of her father. She'd known it the day he'd made her kill her first rabbit; the night he'd locked her up in the dark for hours or _days_ , she couldn't remember, for being unable to learn all their secret codes by heart. But Maia's words held a different weight - a different _meaning_ , hinting at things Jyn didn't want to talk about.

She knew that if Staven could extract information from anyone with his _fists_ , Celinda's weapon of choice was her _smile_. The way she could look at you from beneath her lashes, the seductive sway of her hips. Jyn and Maia had listened at the door, once, after Celinda had come back from a mission, her lipstick smudged and blood on her shirt. Jyn had felt sick all night.

She'd never do _that_ , Jyn had kept telling herself. She would do whatever was necessary for the cause, and if she had to kill an Imperial, a thousand, she _would_. But she could never, _never_ , kiss or pretend to like one of those bastards. Saw would never ask her. Jyn was too full of fire, of ire and disdain, to play pretend; her place was on the field, in combat. Jyn expected to die there.

Maia sighed again. Maia was _beautiful_ , dark blue eyes and plump lips Codo probably wanted to kiss, too - or had _before_ , Jyn thought all of a sudden. Maia was like Celinda and Jasen and Rafe, so pretty no one looking at them could think of the word _rebel_ ; she would kiss men and slit their throats, in a heartbeat. "You've ever kissed someone _before_?" Jyn asked, and berated herself for the weakness in her voice, how it stumbled on the words. There _had_ been a before for Maia; Jyn couldn't help but envying her for it, all these years Maia had had with her family when Jyn could barely remember the song of her mother's laughter.

Maia turned soft, wistful eyes to her, and shook her head. "There was a boy I liked, back in Mygeeto." She paused, then shrugged one shoulder. "He didn't make it."

She felt the tremor in Maia's careful tone before the first tear started to drop. Without thinking, Jyn wrapped her arms around the other girl, rested her chin on her bony shoulder as Maia hid her face in her neck. Maia was the only one Jyn still felt _human_ with, the only one she could talk to about things she'd rather not, things that scared her, things she _so_ desperately wanted but could never have.

 _Love,_ like her parents had had, sweet and simple in its importance; kisses on cheeks, arms to run to, someone who would talk to her as if they were interested in _her_ , not in how she could be of use to them. Jyn didn't want her first kiss to be followed by a gush of hot blood.

She pulled away after a while, after it felt like Maia's breathing was back to normal, slow and steady and solid in Jyn's arms. Maia smiled at her, soft, small, grateful, and Jyn forgot how mad she'd been earlier, as she leaned back in. Maia's eyes widened a little, surprise flickering in the blue of them for half a second before _she_ closed the distance between them, silent understanding sparking as Maia pressed her lips against Jyn's, hesitant, gentle. It felt weird but it felt _right_ , too, Jyn thought, where Codo's lips had felt _alien_ to her. Maia touched her cheek, trembling fingers brushing briefly against her skin, and _this_ was what a first kiss should be like.

(In the years that followed, after Maia died, Jyn tried to remember her softness. In her gloves, that she promptly lost. In someone else's lips. Again and again. A thin ray of sun had beamed through the very carefully sealed hatch of her cave, that afternoon, and it hurt to think about it, and it hurt _not_ to.)

 

* * *

 

  **Tanith**.

 

The volcanic planet of Sullust was nothing but a barren world of lava streams and lifeless waters, bright, fake turquoise lakes Jyn would have never bathed in or taken a sip from even if she were dying of thirst. In a world so devoid of interest, mining and manufacturing center under Imperial occupation, _he_ was the first thing she saw.

He struck out like a sore thumb in the marketplace. In spite of the civilian clothes and trained, casual smile, his entire being _screamed_ military; in the way he carried himself, his stance, the steel of his gaze as he scanned the place, constantly on alert. Like _she_ did. The man, who was hardly any older than her - not a day above twenty-two, Jyn was certain - pretended to care about the price of cobalt as he wandered through the stands.

Jyn knew a rebel when she saw one. Unlike Saw's men who thrived in the darkness, extorting intel from enemies with a blade pressed to their gut or planting landmines around an Imperial fleet, the man (Jyn couldn't decide if he was more of a _soldier_ or a _spy_ , _that_ piqued her curiosity) blended in broad daylight. But Jyn, who'd lived _eight_ years with Saw, noticed the small things Sullustans and Imperials alike _wouldn't_.

He lacked the proper, somber look most people had on Sullust; though life was as peaceful as it could get under the Empire's reign, people only stayed because they had no place _else_ to go to. Most people bowed to the Empire for that very reason - for the illusion of stability, of safety, looking away from the nastiness of reality could give. Jyn wasn't about to blame anybody for wanting that. _Gods_ , the things she wished she could unsee, or _undo_. And _that_ was another thing she recognized in the man, in the way he squared his shoulders, and how his fingers tightened and balled into fists at his sides.

He'd seen _a lot_ , too. There was something tragic about him, how he looked like he was haunting his own life instead of living it, and -

Jyn _should_ have cleared away from him. She didn't believe that Saw had changed his mind and sent someone for her, and that man didn't look like one of Saw's, for that matter; but she wanted to draw the attention of a rebel as much as she did an Imperial officer. It'd taken her four days to forge the Imperial documents she needed to get anywhere close to the troopers' garrison, close to the stock of weapons she knew she'd find there. She wasn't about to throw all that effort away.

The man wandered off the market, and Jyn felt her legs move on their own accord to follow him.

Sullust was made of old alleys, intricate and so easy to get lost into. Now, though, Jyn had a pretty good idea of where he was heading. There were only so many places of interest on the planet - the market, for one, was the place for trades and intel, whereas the tavern garnered smugglers and thieves and assassins from all around the galaxy.

Maybe the man was an assassin, after all. Who _wasn't_ , these days, Jyn thought sourly.

She took cover from a couple of passers-by as she went, making the most of it to study him. His jaw was sharp, with the barest hint of scruff and a mustache. Dark hair, dark eyes. A scar, probably from a knife, grazed the side of his neck; a bit to the left, and he would have bled out, she reckoned. Jyn watched as he composed himself, relaxed the clench of his hands and brushed one through his short hair. If he was trying to look more rugged, less military, Jyn chuckled to herself at the ridiculous attempt. The sleeves of his thin shirt were rolled up to his elbows, military style, the tails untucked from his pants for the first time ever, it seemed. Jyn almost wondered if he was doing all of this on purpose, to draw attention on himself.

Or to divert attention _from_ something else.

There wasn't much to do on Sullust; not much to gather intel about, nor steal. The forgotten planets and asteroids between the Mid and Outer Rim territories blossomed in desolation and despair, Sullust and Kashyyyk and Onderon having become nothing more than tools for the Empire. Jyn wondered what business the Rebel Alliance could have there before pushing the thought away; she'd stopped caring about all the useless, fruitless tactics and ideals of senators who knew nothing about war and soldiers who were afraid to wage one.

Jyn wasn't an idealist, nor an optimist, for that matter. She knew damn well that she would probably die by an Imperial hand someday, sooner than later, when she'd run out of luck or favors; but Jyn liked to think that what _she_ did, stealing ammo and impeding Imperial fleets, actually _meant_ something. That maybe, _hopefully_ , it would carve a path for others to follow. Wars weren't won by sentiment, or good intentions. From what she'd heard on her travels through the galaxy, the Rebel Alliance dreadfully lacked _action_.

Which felt like such a stark contrast to the man, all buzzing, nervous energy, waiting, _longing_ to be unleashed; Jyn knew a thing or two about bottling things in. It felt as if her eyes were keen to the things that _singled_ him out in a crowd of dull, static noise. He was the most _real_ thing she'd seen in a while.

The man tilted his head to the side and Jyn ducked hers quickly. He had dismissed her as a possible threat back at the market; she intended to keep it that way. She followed him as he took another left turn, his pace a little faster, almost urgent. Was he meeting someone at the tavern? Was he here for the same reason Jyn was? She failed to see how a stock of blasters and a badly organized camp of troopers could hold any interest to the rebels.

The _other_ thing Jyn failed to see was the moment when the man disappeared out of her sight.

All of a sudden he was gone; more passers-by had filled the narrow streets, and the hot air felt thicker to Jyn, like invisible fingers closing around her throat. A rebel on Sullust meant trouble; the idea of others, even more. Jyn was used to rolling with the unplanned and unexpected, yet she'd never let anyone outsmart her like this.

(Saw Gerrera would be _so_ disappointed.

Jyn was furious with herself for allowing the thought to pass her mind.)

"Looking for something, Tanith?" a voice said, the accent rough, definitely from the Outer Rim.

Jyn gritted her teeth, giving herself half a second to seethe beneath the surface before turning an open, friendly face to the man. He was looking at her with a curious expression - half-amused, half-worried - carefully wrapped in friendly manners. He was _better_ than she'd credited him for. Jyn tucked a stray curl behind her ear, playing coy; the action allowed her to shift her gaze to his side, his belt, his boots. No weapons that she could _see_. "I'm sorry," she said, then paused. Deliberate; delicate brows furrowing as she looked up to him with confused eyes. "Do I know you?" she asked.

The rebel laughed, something dry, humorless. Jyn would have felt offended if Saw Gerrera had not taught her fifteen ways to make a man bleed. "I'm sorry," he echoed, "but do you often follow people you don't know?" His tone was teasing but calm, almost _kind_. Like he was teaching her a lesson on how to _rebel_ \- nothing like Staven beating her bloody for making a mistake.

 _I wasn't following you_ was on the tip of Jyn's tongue, but she heard the petulance in her own head - a child playing at being an adult playing war - and bit the inside of her cheek. How did he know her _name_ , was a better question. Instinctively, Jyn curled her hand at her side, patting the side pocket of her tunic.

Her forged documents weren't there anymore.

She _was_ going to make him _bleed_.

"How about we take this somewhere more private?" the man offered, like they were in some fancy neighborhood of Coruscant instead of an abandoned corner of the galaxy. Anytime, anywhere _else_ , Jyn would have gladly accepted; there was something about the way words rolled on his tongue, the slight rasp of his voice - not quite suave, not meant to seduce - that _still_ made heat pool low in her belly. The urge still felt foreign, but no longer as odd and hard to comprehend than it had when it'd first hit her. Desire, she'd learned, could be understood. _Controlled_.

He looked at her like he _knew_ her, could read her, and for the first time since Saw Gerrera had abandoned her two years prior Jyn felt _lost_.

She'd come to Sullust for a reason; she'd go to Bespin or Concord Dawn or Felucia for another. She'd been keeping busy, all on her own, and it was fine, really. A little bit repetitive, maybe, but no more risky than anything she'd been doing with Saw since she was eight years-old.

If anything though, it'd been _lonely_.

Jyn didn't like the weight of the man's gaze on her; how _inviting_ it felt, at the same time. He was wasting her time. She felt herself shaking her head and starting to open her mouth to say something when he spoke over her. "Did you make these?" he asked, holding her documents between his thumb and forefinger as he seemed to examine them with care. "I've rarely seen fakes looking - "

"Will you keep it down?" Jyn hissed, and grabbed him by the sleeve. "What are you playing at? You want to get the troopers' attention on us?" she spoke through gritted teeth.

The man only half pretended to look bad before he allowed a sly grin to creep up his face. "The troopers are too busy watching the mines. Everybody's too busy watching elsewhere, on here." He looked down at his arm, at Jyn's fingers still holding it, and his grin grew wider. "This little fight might be the most exciting thing to happen for a decade."

Jyn felt her cheeks burn and let go of his arm as if it were on fire. She didn't have the time for this. "I'd like my documents back now," she said very slowly. "I have other matters to attend to, so, if you don't mind."

He was still grinning, and Jyn remembered something Codo used to say: _beware the wolves that hide their teeth_. Being on her own meant she was wary of _everyone_ , but being alone also meant Jyn didn't have to worry about letting people in only for them to hurt her later. Even just _thinking_ of Codo wasn't the brightest idea.

She held up her palm, and willed herself to maintain eye contact as he assessed her. Jyn didn't know what he was looking _for_ ; didn't want to care. At long last he tore his gaze away and handed her the documents. His fingers brushed against hers, calloused skin against calloused skin, and Jyn barely suppressed a shiver.  "These are really good," he praised, more serious than he'd ever been. "I know people who could use someone with your skills."

Jyn flinched - couldn't help it. If the man saw, he didn't let on. She pocketed her documents, felt the knife at her belt through the fabric of her tunic; using it now would be childish, and stupid. She gave herself a second to let the sting fade, then composed herself, stood her ground and gave her a smile of her own. " _That's_ the thing, though. I don't really enjoy being used by people."

The man's face fell and if Jyn hadn't been better trained, she would have fallen for it. She'd practiced lying and feigning so many times with Maia and Codo, been around people wearing masks all the time, she learned everybody did. His was carefully crafted; she could almost _believe_ he was feeling bad for his poor choice of words. The man at least had the decency not to try and say something to explain himself, and for that Jyn was grateful. The Rebel Alliance and the Empire alike were known for using people to their own advantage; there was no use pretending otherwise. Jyn just didn't feel like joining either side - _any_ side.

She spared him one last glance and made to turn. Jyn hadn't taken three steps before he called out her name. "Tanith, wait," he said, and was up her nose in one stride, unnecessarily holding her arm by the elbow. For some reason, Jyn didn't shrug him off. For some reason, she almost wanted to stay right here, just a moment longer. "Whatever you're planning to do, you should know that a new garrison of troopers is expected on Sullust in two days time."

Jyn frowned. Why was he warning her? How could she know he wasn't lying? The man brought more questions than answers. She nodded nonetheless, not keen on useless words of thanks.

He released his grip, and she was gone in no time.

(If she turned at the corner of the street to see if he was still there and felt the slightest pang of _disappointment_ upon seeing he _wasn't_ looking at her, Jyn filed the information in the _to be deleted_ part of her mind.)

 

* * *

 

 **Kestrel**.

 

She was a redhead on Corellia.

In the four years since Saw had left her stranded, Jyn had made a name for herself. _Names_. She'd seen the first hologram of her face on the wanted wall of a busy street of Hosnian Prime four of five months ago - hence the red hair, that she'd allowed to flow about her face instead of tying it into a bun. It was sticking to her cheeks, the nape of her neck, because of the severe, days-long rainstorm that seemed to never end.

She was in need of a ship, and a pilot. Being in possession of unsanctioned weapons meant she also needed someone to smuggle them in and out. The ship she'd been on had dropped her on Corellia after the pilot had been scared off by an Imperial search. Jyn had been told that there were only a handful of pilots who were crazy enough to do such a thing and that she'd find one at the bar, surrounded by a wookie, women, and debtors.

It sounded like the start of a bad joke.

Nonetheless, Jyn took comfort in the welcoming warmth of the bar as she entered. Scanning the place, she drew her hood as she sighted no unpleasant company - no _wookie_ , either. Corellia was the homeworld of pilots and pirates and smugglers; no one turned their head to her. No one cared. Jyn liked the place already.

She sat at the bar, was about to wave at the bartender, when someone slipped on the stool beside hers. "Long time, no see," the man said, and it was his voice, a little gruff, rough, with the barest hint of humor, that Jyn recognized more than his face.

He looked older - _older_ than the past couple of years should have honed him. His scruff was thicker, almost a beard. His lips were a thin line that barely twitched at the corner into a smile that only lasted a second; he looked like he hadn't smiled in a long time. Jyn tried to think of the last time she'd smiled, too; there hadn't been many occasions - and if the growing rumors about what the Empire had been up to, the disappearances, the torture, were true... The future didn't look any brighter.

Still, seeing him drew a smile out of her. She didn't even know his name - probably never would, any name he would give her being an alias, an alter ego created for the Alliance, like she did. She didn't know the first thing about him, but somehow she felt drawn to him anyway. Jyn had thought of him, after Sullust; after she'd realized he'd told her the truth about the troopers, and that his warning had helped her a great deal. Sometimes on lonely, dark nights, she wondered if he'd come looking for her; if perhaps she'd come across him again, if fate or the Force willed it. He was neither friend nor foe, but she'd entertained the notion a few times. It had warmed some nights, the memory of the taunting gleam in his eye, his tan skin, his sly smile; it'd distracted her, made her angry with herself, allowing herself to daydream, to be weak. She'd never _forgotten_ him.

"I like your hair," he said, factual, no less smooth. Jyn didn't. She liked her hair brown, the same as her mother's. With the necklace she'd given her back on Lah'mu, it was the last thing Jyn allowed herself to be attached to.

She caught a glimpse of the red in the crystal, and it _looked_ nice, she supposed.

"So what are you doing here?" she asked, leaning an elbow on top of the bar and holding her chin with her cupped hand. Flirty, playful - blending in daylight, like he did.

His eyes flicked to her mouth - for show, Jyn reckoned. "In a bar?" he chuckled. "Getting a drink. Getting _you_ a drink, maybe?"

"Ah, is that so?" she let out with a sigh, and pretended to think about it. Her pilot wasn't there, and Jyn wasn't particularly willing to ask every pilot on Corellia if they wanted to smuggle some Imperial blasters and a woman a lot of people were starting to ask for all around the galaxy. If that Han Solo wasn't there - _maybe_ she could have a drink in the meantime. "I don't know if I should have a drink with a man whose name I don't even know, though."

"Aach," he lied easily, and extended his hand to her. Another invitation.

Jyn pondered it for a second, a minute, before she shook his hand. She felt a scar on the inside of his palm, catalogued the calluses, flesh memory bringing her back to that hot afternoon on Sullust, how his fingers had felt as they'd brushed hers for the first time. "Kestrel," she said simply.

" _Kestrel_ ," he echoed, trying it, _tasting_ it, and Jyn wondered if he remembered the name on her documents back on Sullust. She didn't see any reason why he would, or why he'd care. They were liars and _both_ knew it. "And what will you be drinking, Kestrel?"

"Nothing you can afford, I'm afraid," she teased, before nodding her head at the bartender. "Spiced ale, please."

Aach - whatever his name was - groaned. "I _can_ afford spiced ale," he growled, before adding, "Make it two." He crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned slightly against the bar. He looked at her with surprised interest, as if he, too, didn't understand whatever it was that flew in that current between them. "So, do you come here often?" he asked.

Jyn almost laughed at his terrible attempt at small talk. _Finally someone who was as bad at it as she was_. But she bit down on her lip, kept her chuckle to herself. She shrugged. "I like bars. I don't care on what planet they are."

"Aren't you a bit too young to drink, though?" he wondered aloud. If he looked older than his twenty-four or twenty-five years, Jyn still looked her teen years. She'd lost the roundness in her cheeks, her childhood freckles, she was leaner, more slender - but she was still petite, and nothing to look at, she knew. People underestimated her; it was humiliating but helped her a lot, for everyone dismissed her as a threat.

She'd thought _he_ had, too, back on Sullust. But he _hadn't_ , not if he'd bothered to steal her documents, to turn his way around on her, to tell her that her skills could be used by the Resistance. It'd made her blood boil, but in a way it had been the first time anyone had ever told her that she was good at something, at the things she'd learned through beatings and bruises at the hands of the people she'd called friends; on her own, too, since they'd cut her off.

 _Stardust. Don't ever change_. The hatch Jyn had closed around her heart opened, forcefully, in a flood. Her father, her parents, had loved her for who she was, had been proud of her. There had been people who told her that she was good, and loved. _Before_. Jyn shook her head, trying to force the thought out - she couldn't afford to let herself think of before, or let the man bring this kind of memories and feelings. The bartender put their drinks down before them, and Jyn brought hers to her lips, gulping fast.

Aach looked at her, and again she spotted that look in his eyes, the depth in them that made it seem like he could see right through her. Did he have a cave and a hatch of his own, too?

Jyn took another gulp, and finished her drink. "More," she half-asked, half-barked at the bartender.

Aach cocked his eyebrow, but said nothing. Jyn almost wanted him to; perhaps if he said something, or probed, she could snap and find that the fire in her was still there, sparking, burning hot, instead of the slow, cold web of tangled lies and hidden truths. But he didn't press, and his face remained neutral, no grin adorning his lips as he finished his drink and waved at the bartender for another, too.

 _No talking, then_ , Jyn reckoned. That was fine; she'd grown to enjoy the silence. It was all she'd known for so long.

The drinks kept coming by, and though Jyn wasn't anywhere near drunk, it felt _good_ , not caring about anything for a while. There was a part of her brain she could never shut off that was still surveying the doors, the people coming in or leaving; she was pretty certain that Aach operated the same way. It felt nice, having someone at her side - sharing the burden. He wasn't a friend, but not a complete stranger, either. It was almost like having a partner.

She was on her fourth, maybe fifth drink, when Jyn's eyes started to trace the sharp line of his jaw, down to his mouth, how red and wet and enticing it looked. She hadn't been quite able to forget _that_ , either - how she'd thought of that mouth after Sullust, wondering what it'd feel like against her own, against her skin. His lips had formed lies, but truth, _too_ , Jyn knew, and that smile...

With alcohol pulsing through her body, Jyn liked to think that this smile was _hers_ , that maybe in the grand scheme of things and the vastness of the galaxies, they'd found each other in those small windows of time, of forgotten planets. Maybe they would again.

(Tomorrow, she'd close _that_ hatch for good. _Tomorrow_.)

She caught him staring back, his eyes dark as they settled on her lips, too. Jyn _almost_ leaned in. She'd done bolder, braver, riskier things with Saw's war-band, as Tanith and all her other aliases. A kiss was nothing, _meant_ nothing; neither did sex. It was about desire and release and want and that push and pull and it was nothing and everything she had at the same time. She could do this.

She placed her hand near his on the bar, looked at him from under her lashes. Sex could be dull, leaving you unsatisfied and empty and aching; sex could be a rush, a urge, basic and primal and insignificant. She could kiss him and sleep with him and leave, move on to another planet, another system, until the Force willed them to meet again. Or not. Jyn didn't care - couldn't care about him, she didn't _know_ him.

He blinked, slow, a little dazed, his focus leaving her mouth to meet her eyes. Heat melted in her core.

She doubted anything about him - _with him_ \- could ever be _insignificant_.

She leaned in anyway.

Jyn could taste his breath in her mouth, in the small, minute space between them. She could have sworn she felt him swallow, felt his fingers grazing hers. Against her will, her eyes closed.

She felt his lips brush her ear, and froze. "There are two men at the door, staring at us. Are you expecting someone?" he murmured, low, and pressed his lips to her temple, and it _ached_ to know it was for show. Jyn shook her head. "Are you armed?" Another caress of his lips, lower, at her neck. Jyn nodded, hating herself for the flush in her skin.

His fingers touched hers, then. An easy order: _follow my lead_.

Everything in her screamed to _run_ ; maybe these men were after her, maybe they weren't. Maybe they were after him. Her instincts told her to take care of _herself_ , first and foremost.

 _Other_ instincts kicked in when his free hand came up and grabbed at her waist, her side, and his teeth dug lightly at her neck, the pressure soft but hard enough to draw an unexpected moan from Jyn.

"Just get a room already," someone howled, maybe the bartender, Jyn didn't care. She wanted to feel his teeth, his mouth, his tongue, _everywhere_.

But as soon as the thought had entered her brain, she burned from the sudden absence of his lips against her skin. Aach had retreated, holding up his hands, grinning. "Yeah, yeah, all right, we're leaving," he laughed, sounding drunk and stupid. _Inoffensive_.

He didn't look at her as he took her hand; she let him lead her to the door, past the men, who seemed to think nothing of them now, just another drunk couple. Jyn instantly _hated_ them; needed them to pick a fight, so she could let some of that adrenaline rage on. But none of them did - she and Aach left the bar and it was still raining outside, cold rain doing nothing to calm the fever pitch of her skin.

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to _slap_ him. He didn't have any right to touch her like this, and then _stop_. Jyn wanted to scream.

She hadn't spotted these men, but he had. She'd leaned in, urged by desire, sheer want, for something to call her own for a moment; there was _no way_ he hadn't gotten the message, or mistaken it for quick thinking. It was vulnerability and idiocy at their worst, and Jyn wanted to disappear.

Eight years with Saw, another four on her own, _twelve years_ and Jyn had been betrayed by her own senses, her heartbeat thrumming like a drum - his eyes, his mouth.

He didn't say anything; kept walking for a while and Jyn found herself following him, her hand still clasped in his. It wasn't until they'd turned into a narrow street not unlike one on Sullust that he stopped and finally, _finally_ looked at her. "Sorry about that," he threw, almost careless.

Jyn felt herself shake her head. _It was nothing_ , she kept telling herself. _Insignificant_. She would deal with the liquid heat pooling in her belly later. She shrugged, more to convince herself than him. She didn't dare speak a word.

He hadn't let go of her hand.

She pulled her own, and it fell limp at her side, still burning from the contact. Her whole body felt like it was burning. The chill, damp rain only heightened her senses as it stuck to her skin, soaking the fabric of her clothes, plastering her hair to her forehead. His was just as a mess as hers, and Jyn longed to twine her fingers in it and pull, kiss him hard and never let go.

"I've got to go," Aach said, slamming her hatch close, making the whole cave tremble with the strength of his words. "I'm - I'm on business."

He didn't say it, but Jyn heard it anyway: _I don't have time for this. For you_. It didn't matter. Couldn't.

"So am I," she replied coolly, and left.

This time, she didn't turn around.

(Later, in the mud hole she'd hidden her weapons and stayed in, Jyn brought herself to climax and to sleep with images, actual _memories_ of his teeth digging into her skin, his hand on her, as she feverishly moved her own between her thighs.

It left her incredibly sated, but achingly empty.)

 

* * *

 

 

 **Liana Hallik**.

 

Jyn had grown tired of theft and forgery. She'd been arrested before, escaped prison; Jyn wasn't particularly willing to go back unless she had a very good reason.

Such a reason came to her on Naboo. Or maybe Jyn had come to Naboo _looking_ _for_ a reason. It didn't matter which, she supposed. Naboo had been the center of many of her mother's tales as a child; the pastoral, beautiful planet had hosted romance, blossoming love stories, a young queen whose people adored. Jyn had never been before, but she'd dreamed of it on many nights.

Naboo was _nothing_ like her mother had praised. Though it was still beautiful, its former glory had faded under Imperial occupation. The Queen was nothing but a puppet whose strings were played by the Emperor who'd been born and raised there. Nothing remained of Padmé Amidala, Jyn's heroine as a small girl, nor her legacy. The planet was filled with the inner circle of the Emperor, politicians playing games they didn't quite understand, being dealt like cards by more powerful people than them.

One of these politicians, some petty dictator whose name Jyn hadn't bothered remembering, was hosting a masquerade party in honor of the prosperity and good fortune Naboo seemed to be under. Jyn felt like attending. The fact that the dictator owned a large stock of guns, and an even larger ship she'd like nothing better than to blow up, certainly added to that feeling.

It had been easy to flirt with the guards, distract them long enough to add her name to the guests list. Men were easy to manipulate, Jyn had learned through the years. She conjured the memory of Celinda, her beauty, the way she fluttered her eyelashes, the sulk in her voice, and remembered Maia, too, her simple grace. Although Jyn disliked it immensely, sometimes it was just easier to make pretty promises and flash a beautiful smile, lean in a little to suggest more than show, instead of knocking people out. And that was how she'd gotten her way in, golden dress, pins and bows in her hair, and a fox mask to conceal her features.

(Dressing up had been the _trickier_ part - stealing the dress was more of her thing than dolling up. Jyn felt naked without a blaster at her hip, and the small blade she'd hidden in her garter wouldn't help much if storm troopers decided to join the party.)

Jyn avoided the crowd, the couples gathered at the center of the ballroom, and skirted along the bar and buffet, a flute of champagne - or so the waiter had said - in her hand as she surveyed the salon. She was thankful for the ridiculous masks everyone adorned; no one cared about who anyone was, tonight. Villagers and politicians alike had been invited, to show off the wealth and comfort the Empire had provided. Tonight she was Liana Hallik, just another girl from the city. Tonight she would dance with senators with fat, chubby fingers and grabby hands, smiling and laughing like another silly, naive, pretty little thing. Tomorrow, she'd burn everything down.

A man with grey hair, old enough to be her grandfather, grabbed her hand and dragged her to the middle of the room. He had a hand at the small of her back before she could pretend to flush and resist, and Jyn bit the inside of her cheek not to flinch or press her knife to his gut. She listened to him brag about his position, his power, how he could help a poor village girl like her if she wanted. Jyn assessed him quickly, and deemed him of no real interest. Her petty dictator was talking business across the room, and _he_ was her target tonight. Slipping away from old men with grabby hands proved more difficult than she'd expected; she didn't escape her first suitor without a wet, disgusting kiss pressed to the corner of her mouth. Jyn danced across the ballroom with a couple of same old, wrinkled, sickening politicians, before she caught his attention.

Stealing his keys was as easy as stealing candy from a baby. Jyn grinned as he complimented her, sweet and lovely, and let out the faintest protest, the prettiest sigh, as his hand dipped lower in the slit at the back of her dress. She would blow his precious ship up and enjoy every second of it.

Her head spinning a little from all the dancing, her stomach ready to lurch from the burn mark of his hands on her body, Jyn didn't see _him_ at the buffet, didn't recognize him under the similar fox mask he wore; not until his slow grin graced his lips. "We've got to stop meeting like this."

Jyn agreed. It had been a year since Corellia; a year since the simmering heat his lips, his hands, his eyes, had sent through her had turned cold and miserable and painful. In a world where Jyn had nothing, the thought of him, of letting him _go_ , was just cruel now.

She hadn't realized the depth of the anger she carried for him, for his brief appearances in her life that had left too big an impression. She hadn't realized how upset she'd been at being left alone , at not being asked again to join him in the rebellion. Jyn knew he was a rebel; she was certain that he knew that she knew. Why hadn't he asked again?

She hated herself for wanting him to _care_.

Jyn tried to brush past him but he caught her wrist gently, gentler than she'd imagined a spy or a soldier or an assassin's hands could ever be. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked, soft.

Jyn wanted to snap that she was mad about the things he _didn't_ do, but the venom faded in her throat as quickly as it'd appeared. Being mad required more fire than she felt she had. Being mad at someone implied some level of intimacy they didn't share. Being mad was for family, or friends, or lovers.

They were neither.

 _She_ was nothing, no one.

His fingers slipped from her wrist to her elbow, beckoning her to him. Jyn didn't fight it. "Dance with me?" he almost pleaded, and it took her by surprise, both the demand and his weak tone.

Wordlessly, she let him lead her through the crowd of dancing couples. The tune was nothing Jyn knew how to dance to; something slow, as if from a dream. He held her hand into his and placed the free one against her back, higher than all these other men had. Jyn felt stupidly safe. "I'm here as an emissary tonight," he started explaining. "If someone asks, my name is Joreth Sward and I'm from Alderaan. Naboo cannot afford to be openly hostile to diplomatic visits from Alderaan these days." Jyn almost asked him why he was sharing this with her, but he added, "If you want, you can be my date. Two pairs of eyes and ears are always better."

Jyn had gotten what she wanted already. If she left the party now, she could be gone with the guns within an hour. But she could make it beneficial for him, too; instead of blowing up the ship, they could steal it, and maybe this time he could bring her to his superiors, to these people he had mentioned who could use her skills. If he was willing to let her in his plans for the night, maybe, just maybe -

"I saw you dance with that pig earlier," he hissed, his fingers tightening around hers, almost protectively. Jyn wondered if he even realized it. "What did he tell you?"

 _Alliance Intelligence_ , then, Jyn thought. She wasn't a spy, though; she'd smiled and gushed when she'd felt it was the moment to, but all she'd wanted was access to the man's keys. She hadn't cared for the rest. "He told me what he'd like to do to my pretty little mouth." Nausea choked her in the back of her throat, just repeating the words. She saw something flicker in his eyes then, something cold and dark and murderous. "You don't need to get all chivalrous over me," she tried to shrug.

He gave her a pointed look. Jyn held his gaze, her lips pressed tightly together. He relented after a minute; Jyn felt his shoulder slump slightly under her palm, and the hand at her back relaxed, though still warm and protective, tucking her to him. "You do look beautiful," he said, very simple, very true.

"A girl tires of grime and blood after a while," Jyn shrugged, and it had the intended effect to make his lips twitch in a half-smile. She wanted to hold onto her anger, but fury and pain tired her, _too_. "What do you need to know?"

He swayed her in rhythm with the music, and tucked her even closer. A near-by couple smiled politely at them. "We need to know about the state of the Security Forces," he all but breathed in her ear. "There are rumors spreading - the Queen could turn against the Emperor, with the right push and strong allies."

Royal Naboo Security Forces. The Senator had said something earlier, if Jyn could push the feeling of his hands on her away and remember... "He has a tight leash on them," she murmured, lovely smile on for everybody else to see. "He mentioned it earlier. You want me to - "

"No." It was all but a growl in her ear, feral and protective and _stupid_ , Jyn thought. This was basic intelligence training: seduce your informant, lull them into a sense of security, use them. And she was _willing_ to be used, Jyn realized - willing to help, to do something for him. Hadn't he been the one saying two pairs of eyes and ears were better?

"I'll just flirt with him," Jyn reassured him. "Let him believe I'm easily impressed, and he'll spill everything. You can just go and do...whatever emissaries do in the meantime." She thought of the keys she'd snatched earlier, how much more sense it would make for an emissary from Alderaan to be found in the study, looking for someone to discuss matters with, than a village girl. She debated telling him as the song ended, and Joreth's fingers loosened around hers.

But before she could say anything, the senator was walking towards them, his eyes cautious as they set on her partner, but warmer for her. "Emissary Sward, I didn't know you were bringing someone tonight," he said, sweet and honeyed, as he took Jyn's hand. "I'm sorry but I forgot your name, darling."

"Liana," Jyn replied just as sweetly.

"A pleasure, _again_ , Liana," he kissed her knuckles.

"Liana darling got here before I was done discussing matters with your secretary, Senator," Joreth said, bringing the senator's attention back to him. "I told her to mingle."

"A brilliant idea," the senator's eyes sparked, then trailed down Jyn's face, to her mouth, the cleavage of her dress. "My secretary was just telling me earlier that he'd thought over your proposition. You might want to go find him and discuss it before he drinks too much and ridicules himself." Not quite an order, but his tone was clear. "I can keep Liana company in the meantime."

Joreth bowed his head a little, a curt nod. "If she's not too much of an inconvenience for you, Senator," he said. "Liana, dear," he turned to her, and pressed a short, half-distracted kiss to her cheek. "You look as lovely as the stars tonight. I'll see you later."

Jyn blushed, only half-pretend. The _gardens_ \- the estate possessed gigantic gardens she'd caught a glimpse of earlier, and in their midst stood a maze of bricks and leaves. The perfect place for stargazing, and to share secrets.

Jyn wondered when it had happened, their understanding each other in looks and touches and codes.

She patted his chest, slid the keys in the pocket of his jacket. If he felt it, Joreth didn't show. He shook hands with the senator and left without another glance at her. "Now, darling," the old man slurred, "would you like some champagne?"

One flute turned into two, three, and the senator was offering her a tour of the palace when his _wife_ stepped in. Jyn was glad for the interruption.

She made the most of it to disappear into the night. Outside the air was still warm, summer still caressing Naboo's faint breeze. Jyn crossed path with a handful of couples seeking the shadow the night offered, giggling and kissing through it. Jyn wanted to snarl at them, those foolish, naive people, who lived happy, insignificant lives.

 _You're no better_ , a faint voice rang in her head. Jyn shook her head. She wasn't doing much, but it was still something, wasn't it? She'd long lost the hope to leave an imprint in her time, but she was doing everything she could.

She entered the maze, wandered to the heart of it, and waited. _Waited_.

An hour passed, maybe two. Perhaps she had misunderstood him; perhaps his parting sentence had been nothing but a compliment, perhaps he didn't care to see her again after he'd done what he'd come here to do. Perhaps -

"Liana?" she heard his voice before she saw him. There was a slur to the way he spoke her name. He appeared in front of her, looking more disheveled than he had before; his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his eyes a little dazed. She knew enough about him to know he _wasn't_ really drunk, nowhere near it. This was for show, again.

But there was no one around, no one to eavesdrop, to even care.

His stride was a little off as he closed the distance between them. "The senator's wife is _something_ ," he groaned in her ear as she slipped an arm around him, helped him sit on a bench.

There _was_ bright lipstick on the corner of his mouth. He'd tried to smear it, but some remained. Jyn wanted to puke. Although the senator's wife was much younger than he was, and _beautiful_ , Jyn doubted it had made it any more pleasant. Teasing, comforting words burned the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back. Instead Jyn lifted a careful hand to his face and pushed his fox mask up his forehead, then let it fall to the ground. Wordlessly he did the same to hers.

She wondered if every time they'd meet like this he would look so much older than he should. Jyn had turned twenty-one a few weeks before; he had to be twenty-five, she figured. He _looked_ a hundred years old. There was no scar marring his face this time, though, and a small part of her thanked the gods for it. "Thank you for the keys," he said after a while. "Can I ask what you were planning to do with them?" he asked carefully, as if he feared her answer.

Jyn gave him a shake of her head. "You don't want to know. Best if you don't. I'll wait until you're gone, so they don't get suspicious of you," she added.

But his gaze on her was steel and fierceness combined, with the barest undertow of softness. Concern. "Whatever it is, _don't_ do it. It's not worth the risk." When she didn't react, he reached for her hand. "This is Naboo. You do anything on here, and they'll crush you. You'll get arrested, or _worse_."

"I've _seen_ worse," Jyn shrugged. She wasn't trying to sound tough; she _had_. Worse was her mother being murdered in front of her, worse was trusting Saw Gerrera to care for her, and then being left behind. Nothing the Empire could do to her could feel, _be_ worse.

"I bet you have," Joreth murmured, soft, sad. Again, that feeling that he had his own cave, somewhere, filled with darkness and death and shadows lurking. "But if you get caught, you'll be sent to Wobani. Nobody leaves Wobani alive. There's no guard to bribe there, nobody to fool."

 _Wobani_. Jyn had heard of the Imperial penal labor camp before. If she was honest with herself, she'd known she would end up there someday. She said nothing.

"Come with me," he said, and the plea from earlier that evening was back in his voice. And so were the words Jyn had longed to hear despite her stubbornness.

Still, Jyn couldn't quite let herself fall for them, for _him_. "What do you care?" she asked the question that had been burning the back of her mind for _years_ now.

"What do I care?" he echoed, and his fingers tightened around hers, almost painfully, and his voice was a growl of ire and fire - like her, like she used to be. "What do I care?" he repeated, as the flames flickered to cold embers.

And then his lips were on hers. Soft, harsh, deep, not enough, _not enough_ , and Jyn hated him for kissing her like that, hated him as much as she loved it, craved it, _begged_ for more. She grabbed at the collar of his shirt as his tongue pushed past the seam of her lips and Jyn moaned, _free_ like she hadn't felt in a long time.

She wanted him _now_. Jyn didn't care that they were surrounded by Imperial bastards, that anyone could walk in on them, and it felt _so_ good, not caring and letting herself succumb to the sheer want that was wrapping around her, drowning in that need. One of his hands twined in her hair, cupped at the nape of her neck, holding her to him as he deepened the kiss, and Jyn freed her hand clasped in his to mirror him, to let her fingers sift through his hair like she'd longed to on that rainy night in Corellia. She tugged, hard, when he sucked her bottom lip between his, flashing his teeth.

She lost it when his teeth ventured to her neck, to that spot beneath her ear, and his tongue darted to soothe the bite. " _More_ ," she demanded, frustrated, almost angry, _desperate_.

He groaned, low, hungry, and Jyn let out a gasp that soon turned into a moan as he manhandled her, grabbed at her waist and helped her straddle him. There she _felt_ just how desperate _he_ was, _too_. She busied herself with unbuttoning the rest of his shirt while his hands fumbled at the short, lacy sleeves of her dress, sliding them down her arms, revealing her bare breasts. The growl he made resonated through her own body. Jyn felt feverish wherever his hands were touching her; wet, already, as she started grinding against him.

In the faint distance, she could still hear the music from the palace, the echo of laughter, carelessness and happiness. But it was her heartbeat - fast and almost painful at it drummed against her ribcage - that blasted in her ears. Her skin was on fire, the delicious scrap of his beard against the sensitive skin of her breast making her near delirious as he took one nipple in his mouth. Jyn dug her fingers in his shoulders, trying to steady herself against the assault on her senses. He was relentless; she refused to be any less. She rolled her hips against him, looking for friction, for more; the trail of wet, lazy kisses he was dropping along her sternum stopped, and his hands settled at her waist, to still her movements before he bunched the skirt of her dress up, his fingers hot and burning as they closed around her thighs; moved to stroke the inner skin, closer, _closer_ to where she needed him most.

His hand slipped beneath the hem of her underwear, his long, calloused fingers parting her folds, and Jyn's blood raced in her veins, at her temple, deafening her. For one, glorious minute, she forgot everything, even her real name. She was nothing, no one - and it felt liberating, empowering, and Jyn threw out her head, her eyes closing in blissful agony as she undulated against his hand, his lips and teeth and tongue back on her skin, digging and lavishing along the column of her throat. Her knees hurt against the stone of the bench but Jyn kept moving anyway, clenching her thighs, holding him close between her legs as she felt her walls spasm and tighten around his fingers.

He growled something then, a wordless pray to the Force; her name, perhaps. If this moment belonged to Liana and Joreth, Jyn knew he was hers and she was his, no matter what, no matter who they were or pretended to be, no matter where they were in the galaxy. She found his mouth again, kissed him hard and deep and messy, and shattered against him as he brought his thumb to flick over her clit. Her orgasm hit her like a wave, and Jyn could feel the gush of pleasure ripple deep inside, feel how for one moment she was almost somewhere else, her body going taut, every muscle aching with tension, with something she'd never experienced on this level before in her life.

Her kisses became softer, more shallow; lips not quite touching, her heavy breathing turning steady, mingling with his in the minute space between them. His fingers were still caressing her, but feather-light, helping her ride out the wave, slowly building another fire. "I want you now," he said against her mouth, her brow, her closed lids.

Jyn trembled and exhaled, a breathy, small _yes_ , and the next moment he was half-carrying, half-pushing her into the nearest wall with a brute strength she hadn't expected from him but that sent another shiver down her spine. The brick at her back felt solid, an anchor to hold onto as she stared at him with dazed eyes, grabbed at his belt and tugged him closer, finding the openings as he managed to shrug off his shirt while still holding onto her.

Jyn was pretty sure that her legs wouldn't hold her long if he let go of her.

He wasn't fast enough; Jyn wrapped her leg around his waist, took a hold of him, stroked him with intent and urgency. She _needed_ him now. He finally got the message, kissing her mouth, swallowing her moan as he pushed in.

Memories flashed through her hazy brain - Codo's hesitant, inexperienced hands, a man in a dark alley on Kessel, the wrinkled senator... Jyn shook them away, focusing on the present as he thrust into her and she felt herself leave her body again, a rhythmic clench and release building up. She felt wild and burning and _whole_ , like she'd had holes in her heart, in her life, but still carried on.

He looked up at her and she could see it on his face, in his eyes, that he _knew_ ; knew she wouldn't go with him, that this might very well be the last time they met. There was a myriad of emotions flickering in the deep brown, emotions Jyn didn't understand, didn't want to. So she kissed him. Stroked at his back, felt his muscles tensing; soothed him, encouraged him to let go. He swatted the hand she'd brought down her body, beneath her skirt, and replaced it with his own. The first touch of his thumb to her clit made her shudder; the slow circle he traced there, almost made her forget why she'd decided not to.

"Come with me," he murmured, and Jyn _whimpered_ at the double-entendre. She rolled her hips harder, wanting to bring him along the edge right with her. If all she ever had was this one night, she was going to make it count.

She swore, promised him what he wanted to hear, a sweet lie that he'd probably forget as he shed this alias and wore another. It seemed to do the trick; his thumb circled her more urgently, his hips snapping into her, and Jyn cried out, digging her short nails in his shoulder blades as she felt herself coming undone, Joreth following her suit.

He held her for a moment longer than necessary, in the aftermath, before lowering her down. Jyn felt strangely hollow; it almost made her change her mind. She didn't know why she was refusing him, especially now. She knew it was a mistake, a stupid, reckless move, but it just didn't feel right. She hadn't fit in Saw's war-band, she wouldn't fit in the Alliance to Restore the Republic, either.

The only thing that had felt right - _body-to-body_ , the only language Jyn seemed to understand - was the only thing she wouldn't have again.

She didn't look up at him as she pushed the sleeves of her dress up, ignored the dryness in her mouth upon gazing at the expanse of his back, those arms, the telltale click of him buckling his belt again. Her legs still felt weak, wetness from both him and her coating the apex of her thighs, but Jyn bit back the moan the sheer memory brought along.

"Shall we?" he just said, crooking his elbow, his fox mask back on, hers dangling from his fingers.

Jyn lifted a hand to his face, wiped a trace of her lipstick from his mouth. He closed his lips over her thumb for a second and heat flooded through her again, but she ignored it. Linking her elbow with him, they found their way out of the maze in silence.

She disappeared into the night as he found his way back to the ballroom.

(Two days later, she followed him, watched as he left Naboo, not without looking everywhere, as if waiting for her to show up. And another couple of days later, when she blew up the senator's ship and got arrested and dragged off the street, Jyn thought of him, his warning, and how she'd die alone in Wobani.

As she set foot there, she hoped he would never, _ever_ , go there too.)

 

* * *

 

 **Jyn Erso**.

 

Melshi led her through dark chambers and Jyn kept wondering how Saw Gerrera had known about her, about _Liana Hallik_ , to send his men rescuing her from Wobani.

She was sat in a chair, facing rebel generals that definitely weren't part of Saw's camp, and Jyn wondered, _wondered_ -

There he was, standing in the shadow, with a look of disinterest on his face like he didn't want to be there nor did he care about whatever these generals wanted with her. Jyn avoided his gaze as a rust-haired man started speaking. "You're currently calling yourself Liana Hallik. Is that correct?"

She wanted to spit at him. Jyn eyed the man warily, refusing to look at Joreth - whatever his name was. The other general stood, calm and collected, balancing the perpetual scowl the man addressing her wore.

"Possession of unsanctioned weapons, forgery of Imperial documents, aggravated assault, escape from custody, resisting arrest..." Jyn stared at him blankly. If he was trying to impress her then he was failing spectacularly. But the man smiled smugly, and Jyn felt an uneasy feeling creep up her skin. "Imagine if the Imperial authorities had found out who you really were."

 _No_.

"Jyn Erso? That's your given name, is it not?"

She dared a look at him, then. His eyes had widened in surprise for half a second before he'd schooled his features. Rebel Intelligence, Jyn remembered. If those generals had wanted him there, Jyn was to expect that there was a reason.

Senator Mom Mothma gave her one as she stepped in and introduced herself, and the man. _Captain Cassian Andor_. Not just a spy, then, but military. A captain. _Cassian_ , Jyn tasted the name in her head, wondered what it would have felt like, laced in a moan or a whimper against his ear.

(He started interrogating her, casual at first, easy, like their first meeting on Sullust had been. He dropped the warmth quickly, though, and for that Jyn was grateful. If he was to interrogate her, and treat her like he didn't know her, then she wanted him to give her his all.

He didn't disappoint.)

 

* * *

 

 **Sergeant Erso**.

 

Sefla surprised her with his seriousness as he brevetted her the rank of sergeant. She called him a cretin, almost wanted to punch him, but as she made her speech for the troops all Jyn could think about was that now that she was a sergeant she had to listen to her captain's orders, to Cassian. If he ordered her to run, hide, or leave him behind, she would have to do it.

Jyn wasn't so sure that she could do that anymore, _leave him behind_.

(Krennic and his troopers started firing at them, and Jyn felt torn, almost dead inside, at the very thought of leaving Cassian behind. She _had_ to climb, to get the plans to the rebels, but -

Cassian cried out at her to keep going, _keep going_ , before he lost his grip and fell, and she wanted to follow him, let herself drift into the abyss with him, but he was her captain and she had her orders.

Jyn climbed.)

 

* * *

 

 **Jyn**.

 

As they stumbled to their knees on the beach, he spoke her name, so soft, so low and careful, that Jyn felt like it was the first time. " _Jyn_ ," he said, and immediately paused, pain flickering across his features. She held onto his hand, squeezed his fingers. "Your father would be proud of you."

 _I'm proud of you_ , he didn't say, but Jyn still felt it as he found the strength to hold her. _I'm glad you're here, I'm proud of you too, thank you, I love you_ , were on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't say any of it. Now wasn't the time - and it would never be, as the explosion roared and death awaited to wrap around them.

But it _didn't_.

(When Jyn dared to open her eyes, they weren't on Scarif anymore, but back on Yavin. Cassian was on the bed beside hers, _asleep_ , not dead.

She found strength in the way he'd said her name, hoped to hear it again as they were given a chance to meet and learn each other all over again, and took his hand and waited for him to wake up.)

 

* * *

 

_the end_


End file.
